The Trouble With Quarterbacks - R.S. Grey Page 0,117
energy is simmering just below the surface. He’s spring-loaded, and if Madeleine isn’t careful, he’ll grow even more out of hand.
“You’re my vet?” Madeleine asks, trailing after me. “What happened to Katherine?”
“She moved.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispers under her breath.
“I take it you liked Katherine?”
“She was a few years above me in school. I’ve known her my whole life.” She shrugs and continues, “And she gave me a fat discount.”
I close the exam door behind us, but I don’t let go of Mouse’s leash. He’s lost roaming privileges.
“He’s a good dog once he settles down and gets to know you,” Madeleine says, trying to vouch for him.
“I’d say we were pretty well acquainted this morning.”
She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, nibbling on her lip nervously.
“How long have you had Mouse?” I ask, changing the subject. Although I could easily find the information in the chart, I want to learn it from her.
“A few weeks.”
I nod and force myself to look back at the chart.
“I got him from the shelter as a puppy. Well, more of a puppy than now.”
She says it like that will win her sympathy.
“What breed of dog did they tell you he was?”
“I believe the word they used was multinational. Something like that.”
I smile. “He’s a Bernese Mountain Dog.”
“No. They said he was a small lab mix.”
“And you trusted them,” I reply with a flat tone. “Now you’re the proud owner of an untrained dog that will weigh more than you. Your small lab mix is going to easily be 120 pounds by next month.”
“First of all, thank you for the compliment. Secondly, I don’t care what he’ll weigh—I just didn’t want him to get killed.” She pushes off the wall and yanks Mouse’s leash away from me. “I’m sorry, do you interrogate all of your patients? Or is this some kind of special treatment?”
I look down at Mouse, who’s staring up at me fondly. I like him much more than his owner. “You’re not my patient, he is.”
“Right, well, if you’re finished, he just needs his next round of shots.” She checks the watch on her slender wrist. “And I really need to get to work.”
An assistant comes into the room with Mouse’s shots, and it takes no time at all to administer them. He’s docile and sweet, especially when I hold a treat out for him while I stick him with the needle.
“There. All set.”
Madeleine is looking at her phone and shaking her head. “No. No. No.”
“What?”
“Are you 100% positive about his breed?”
I’m guessing she’s been doing some Googling.
Now, I have to laugh. “Yes. I’m positive. We can send off a DNA sample if you’d like.”
She turns her phone around and shows me a photo of an adult male Bernese Mountain Dog. “He’s going to be…well, a mountain!”
Though I shouldn’t seek retribution, seeing her shock slightly makes up for the ordeal this morning. I feel much better when I walk out of that exam room. I’m scanning the next chart when I let myself dwell on her for a second. Even with the annoying first impression, it’s obvious she’s beautiful. I studied her surreptitiously during the exam, mainly because she was being so quiet—I wanted to make sure she wasn’t doing anything nefarious. Still, it seemed like a waste not to take in the details. She was dressed for work in a cream sheath dress that was tight and cut perfectly for her long legs. Her hair was a rich brown, long, and curled softly down her back. The fact that she was in great shape probably has something to do with lugging Mouse around all day. Maybe on another day, I’d find her irresistible—but here, today, there are too many reasons to push her to the back of my mind and move on to the next customer.
And I do. I forget all about her.
Right up until I walk into my bedroom that evening and trip over my crumpled, dirty suit.
Chapter 3
Madeleine
Today, I think I finally see why my mother adoringly refers to me as her “lost cause”. For years I fought the nickname, arguing that my generation actually tries hard to cultivate the hipster image of not having one’s life together. But my ruse falls apart when I line up next to my older brother. He’s a doctor. Married. Good hair. You know the type. The fact that he’s a wonderful big brother only makes matters worse. He’s never missed a birthday. He always makes a point to